


It's Such A Pretty World Today

by EccentricAuthors



Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Fix-It, Gay, Kissing, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EccentricAuthors/pseuds/EccentricAuthors
Summary: Mike finds himself flat on his back in Idaho, robbed of his few belongings and picked up by none other than Scott Favor.
Relationships: Scott Favor & Mike Waters, Scott Favor/Mike Waters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	It's Such A Pretty World Today

Mike was only dimly aware of himself falling, falling flat onto his back in the middle of the highway where it all began. The fence posts, mile signs, tumbleweeds, his bag; they all floated high up into the sky and were swallowed up by the great expanse of blue above him.

And then, Mike heard a woman’s voice, very similar to what Mike thought his mother’s voice sounded like, singing:

_ It's such a pretty world today look at the sunshine, _

_ And every day's the same since I met you, _

_ It's such a pretty world today knowing that you're mine, _

_ And happiness is being close to you. _

Her voice was full of static, Mike realized as he slowly came back to his body. It was the radio, a woman was singing on the radio. And Mike wasn’t lying on the highway anymore. He was propped up in the passenger seat of a car, forehead pressed against the cool window. Mike wasn’t very disturbed by this change of scenery. He was used to the world continuing on as he slept. 

Drowsily, he turned his head from the window and let his gaze drift from the radio to the driver’s seat. Mike thought for a moment that he might still be dreaming, or seeing things again, just like how he used to see his mom in every blonde woman, because Scott was there. Hands on the wheel, his eyes were locked on the road ahead. He didn’t seem to have noticed Mike woke up. Scott looked different, or rather, how he used to look before he inherited his family fortune. His hair was loose and messy, and his clothes similarly. 

Mike shifted more visibly and wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. Scott noticed then, his head turning slightly to look at Mike.    
“Morning, Mikey.” He said cheerfully, but the cheer didn’t quite reach his mouth.

“Hey.” Mike sniffed.

There was a long stretch of silence, which one of them could have broken by now, but neither did.    
“I-I thought...uh, you know, you and Carmella…” Mike started.

“Yeah.”   
“Uh, yeah, so, uhm...how is she? Carmella?”    
“She’s back in Italy.”    
“Oh.” Mike didn’t know what that meant, or what it meant that Scott had come all the way to Idaho, presumably looking for him. He was frustrated, upset, and confused by it all. Scott had everything. The money, the wife, and the metaphorical dog. Why would he abandon it all for him? Mike couldn’t reason it out in his mind, and Scott wasn’t giving him any explanation. “You know, Scott —why’d you come back anyway?”

Mike saw Scott’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. “I have to take care of you.” 

That phrase, one that would have in the past warmed Mike, only made him feel tired. Voice breaking and tears pricking at his eyes Mike replied, “Don’t keep fucking with me, man. I’m sick of it, you saying that and philosophizing about being family—you’re bullshitting me and sayin’ nothing really.” 

The car felt too cramped now and Mike’s fingertips started twitching, a sure sign of an impending attack. He thought he heard Scott saying something, but it felt like his ear canals had narrowed to the size of pinholes and the world was already fading into black. Whatever Scott had said was lost, swept away like an empty paper cup in the wind.

Mike woke up, this time to a scratchy bed cover scraping at his stubbled cheek and the warbled sound of a television playing behind him. He unceremoniously wiped the spit from his lips and rolled over onto his back, staring at the water stained ceiling. He was in a motel. 

He felt a breeze sweep through the room, and Mike turned his head in the direction it was coming from. The door to the motel room was open, and Scott was standing against the door smoking a cigarette. He watched what was going on outside. What, Mike didn’t know. For a moment, it felt like back when Scott and Bob were holed up at a real hotel in Portland together. Mike used to come over all the time and lounge on the beds. They were cleaner and softer than what he was used to and he couldn’t get over how they bounced whenever you sat on them. Scott didn’t seem too impressed, but he was always there with Mike, smoking and watching tv and bullshitting around. Those days felt so far away now, and Scott even more remote. 

Mike laid there for a few more moments before sliding off the bed and joining Scott by the door. “Hey.” 

“Hey, Mike.” Scott replied, looking at him and offering him a puff of his cigarette.

Mike took the offer and put the cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag before handing it back. Scott turned his gaze to the parking lot outside their room and focused on something in the distance. Mike stood beside him quietly, squaring his shoulders to the cold and squinting.

“Out of all my friends, Mikey, I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

“What?” Mike looked down, resting his chin on his chest and braced himself for whatever Scott had to say.   
“I made an incredible change, I did what I was supposed to do, and sought no more of this life.” He dropped the cigarette in his hand to the ground and crushed it under his heel. “But, I was mistaken. I missed my true family.”    
“You should have told this to Bob, you know, before he died.”    
“I missed  _ you _ .”    
“That’s good—I mean, uh, yeah I...I uh, missed you too, man.” Mike sniffed and covered his mouth to cough. He was confusing him all over again. Scott, the more he thought about it after he left, was a higher placed person, unreachable to people like himself. Mike and the other’s were just something Scott could find amusement and pity in, and when he no longer wanted to surround himself in lessers, he could retreat to his fortune. But now Scott was once again standing next to him and telling Mike he  _ missed _ him; a lesser person. The understanding Mike thought he had of Scott was unravelling.    
_ “I’m sorry, Mike.” _ Scott turned to face Mike fully, his dark eyes searching for something in the other’s face. 

Mike imagined the rush of a river, and the splash of salmon as they tried over and over to push against the oppressive current to reach where they had all been born a season before. He imagined that was what he was trying to do, return to where he was born, but he never saw the fisherman’s hook ready to catch him. The fisherman could want to hang Mike up on the wall as a decorative piece in his home, or help him make it up the river, Mike didn’t know.    
“Thanks...thank you for that, Scott.” He wanted to press his face into Scott’s neck and cry, but he didn’t. “I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” 

Mike and Scott spent the remainder of the day trying to find Mike a new pair of shoes. Turned out, Scott had some cash stashed away in his underwear, and despite Mike’s hesitation, bought him a new pair of boots like his old ones. In the evening, Mike cleaned up and washed his hair. He hadn’t gotten a proper shower in awhile, and felt remarkably better afterwards. Scott had gotten a cheap chinese food place that shared the parking lot with the motel. It smelled just like the food back at their hangout in Portland. Mike ate on the bed with Scott watching The Simpsons, laughing occasionally at the stupid antics on screen. He felt like maybe the currents had reversed, and he was riding them home. 

Soon, their food was finished and The Simpsons were off, and Mike was laid back on the bed, legs crossed. Scott was laid back similarly, arms behind his head. There was another stretch of silence between them, as if they were both anticipating something from the other. It felt like when they were in the Idaho brush, huddled around the campfire all over again. 

Mike rolled onto his side and brought his legs up. “I’m going to get some sleep. Goodnight, man.” 

Scott glanced over at him, “Goodnight, Mikey. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Shut up, man.” He replied, a faint smile on his lips.   
A little laugh came from Scott, followed by the jump of the bed as he turned over onto his side facing Mike. He propped an arm under his head and closed his eyes. Mike didn’t close his, focusing on Scott’s lips instead. He remembered how pathetically, and how sincerely he had admitted to Scott he wanted to kiss him not even a few months before. Scott had turned him down, and that was okay, they could be just friends. But, Scott’s return muddled things.

Tentatively, Mike reached out and threaded his fingers in Scott’s hair. Scott opened his eyes, but didn’t pull away, his gaze holding Mike’s steadily. Mike inched closer to Scott until their noses almost touched and their breaths mingled. He wanted to give Scott all the opportunities to stop and reject him just like last time. But Scott didn’t, and instead brought up his hand and cupped Mike’s cheek, rubbing a thumb along his cheekbone.    
“Come here, Mike.” Scott’s voice was soft. 

With that final permission, Mike closed the small gap that remained between them, pressing their lips together. Scott’s lips were chapped, but warm, and made Mike’s heart leap in his chest. It was as if Mike had made it home, and found it with Scott, in their shitty motel room, in Idaho, where his tireless journey began. 

Mike held the kiss a few moments longer before pulling away and pressed his face into Scott’s neck. “I love you, man. But you know that.” 

Scott curled his arms around Mike and held him close. “I know, Mikey, I know.”

They didn’t speak anymore after that, Scott quietly holding and petting Mike until he fell asleep in his arms. When Scott thought Mike couldn’t hear him anymore, he murmured, “I love you, Mike.”

The next morning, Scott and Mike packed what little belongings they had back into the car and got back onto the highway. The car was headed east, but they had settled on no particular destination.

“Well, Mikey, where do you want to go? What do you want to do?” Scott flashed Mike one of his signature smiles and tapped the steering wheel. 

“Wherever, man.” Mike swiped his nose with his thumb and brought his legs up to rest on the dash. “Whatever.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent work on a gay classic. It's been rattling around my brain for weeks. 
> 
> *The song featured in this piece is It's Such A Pretty World Today by Nancy Sinatra


End file.
